


Day Six: Past

by PixieFrosch



Series: Stingue Week 2015 [5]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past, Self-Loathing, Stingue Week 2015, canonverse, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixieFrosch/pseuds/PixieFrosch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seeing the things his future self has done, Rogue can't help questioning himself. Sting can't help setting him right again. Canonverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Six: Past

**Author's Note:**

> So this is set right at the end of the eclipse dragon arc when the portal is destroyed. I kind of took liberties with the prompt but it's still technically past, so... Yeah. Extremely angsty. Hope you enjoy it :)

When the gate is destroyed and the dragons disappear, Rogue can’t help but feel the extraordinary amount of relief that washes over him. He’s safe. Sting is safe. Frosch and Lector are probably safe too, although they should go and look for the exceeds as soon as possible just in case something has happened, but Rogue knows Lector would try and protect Frosch no matter what.

He sinks to his knees, breathing heavily, his bandages filthy and frayed and almost considers stripping them off for a moment, but then decides against it because dirty bandages are better than no bandages at all, at least until they get back to Crocus Gardens. If Crocus Gardens is still even standing.

Rogue’s relief washes away then, and he laughs a hollow laugh. The fact that the inn across the city is actually worrying him even a little bit is amusing to him because what he should be worrying about – what he really is worrying about – is the version of him that came through the portal, the version of him he is yet to become.

“Rogue?”

Rogue looks up, and Sting is standing over him, filthy and bruised, sweat running down his face, breathing just as heavily as Rogue is.

“You okay?” Sting asks, more worried than Rogue has ever seen him in his life.

The Shadow Slayer wants to laugh hysterically; to throw his head back and scream, because he’s not _okay_ ; how can anyone be okay when they’ve just found out they’re going to become a vicious, dragon-wielding, murdering psychopath? He’s not okay, because someday he’s going to murder his best friend, _the boy that he’s in love with_ , and then disgrace himself even further by stealing his magic, something so good and pure that Rogue knows he should never have the right to possess it. He’s not okay, because he’s just seen his future stretching out before him, bleak and hopeless and stained with the blood of the people he cares about.

Rogue doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay again, but he doesn’t laugh or scream or even lift his head, because after the horrors they’ve witnessed tonight, he’s sure that everyone has come to the conclusion that his sanity is questionable now and he doesn’t want to give them any more reason to by acting like a crazed evil overlord.

Instead, he clenches his fists and grits his teeth to give himself the strength to do what he has to do. “Go away,” he all but growls, back set straight and eyes focussed on the burnt, scarred rubble that was once a pathway.

“What?” The hurt and horror at his words is all too evident in Sting’s voice, and Rogue just can’t bring himself to look the other in the eye.

“Leave. I don’t ever want to see your face again.” Rogue feels like the sound of his own voice is twisting a knife into his heart, painful and sharp, as though he’s personally cutting it out as punishment for what he’s done. Except he hasn’t done it yet, hasn’t committed the unspeakable crimes he’s so sickened by, and this isn’t punishment, it’s a pre-emptive strike. Because the only thing worse than Sting hating him, the only thing worse than never seeing him again, is the idea of him dying, of watching as his life bleeds out of him and knowing that he’s the one who caused it, he’s the one who murdered him with his own two hands.

Rogue can’t face that. He can’t even bear to think about it. Hell, he can’t even look Sting in the eye to do the one thing he has to do to save his life. He’s not only a twisted murderer, he’s a coward. Sting’s better off without him anyway.

“No, no, don’t say that.” Sting whispers. Rogue doesn’t realised he’s voiced his thoughts aloud, but Sting is kneeling in front of him now, gloved hand coming up to cup Rogue’s chin, forcing him to look the blond in the eyes. Sting reaches out with his left hand and tenderly brushes Rogue’s fringe away from his face so that he can see into both eyes, vivid red and brimming over with shame, disgust and self-loathing. “Never say that.”

“I killed you. I killed you and then stole your light and brought the world to its knees. I burned a city. I harmed God knows how many people. Lector and Frosch are out there somewhere shaking with fear, and it’s all my fault. How can you even stand to look at me?” Rogue’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, full of revulsion, and he waits for Sting to come to his senses, to realise just how despicable he really is, to turn his head away and remove his hands, walk in the opposite direction and leave him forever. He’s prepared for it, knows what has to happen now.

What he doesn’t expect is a repeat of Sting’s rage barely a day earlier, for Sting to drop his hands and ball them into fists and scream at the sky.

“You haven’t done anything wrong! HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE YOURSELF THAT WAY?” Sting yells. Rogue gasps and falls backwards off his knees, everything about the scene in front of him wrong, because how can Sting fight for him when he knows what Rogue really is?

“HE’S INNOCENT!” Sting screams at the heavens, at no-one in particular, and Rogue is almost certain people have heard by now, are making their way over to see if they’re unharmed.

“Sting…” Rogue tries to find the courage to make him stop, to do the right thing and leave, but the words die in his throat and he just stares, wide-eyed at his partner giving out a faint white light, trying to defend him for all that he’s going to do.

“That’s not you.” Sting is talking normally again now, chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths, trying to regain some of the oxygen he lost through his outburst. “That guy, who wears your face and has your name, he’s not, because you’re disgusted with the very thought of it, of becoming so warped you can’t even value another person’s life. You’re everything that he’s not, I _know_ you, I _know_ you would never do that, you don’t have it in you to be like that.” Sting was sincere, the certainty of what he had just said written across his face. The white light faded, and it was just the two of them knelt in front of each other, so close they could brush their knees together.

“How do you know? How can you say I’m not going to change?” Rogue couldn’t understand the faith Sting still had in his after the destruction they’d just witnessed.

“I know you.” Sting said again. “I could never be in love with someone who was capable of that.” He whispered, closing the distance between them. Rogue’s eyes flickered shut, and the other Dragon Slayer’s lips brushed against his softly, the warmth of Sting’s mouth flooding his entire body. When the blond realised that Rogue wasn’t going to push him away, he threaded his hands through his raven hair, deepening the kiss as Rogue wrapped his arms around his neck, running his hands through the tangles in Sting’s usually carefully messed spikes.

“Hey, get a room!”

Sting and Rogue broke apart at the sound of Natsu’s voice, Sting turning to see the pink-haired slayer approaching with a grin. Sting’s face broke out into a matching smile at the sight of him and he stood up, turning back to Rogue and reaching out his hand.

“Just because you’re his past,” Sting said, sounding so much older than the nineteen years he was, “It doesn’t mean he's your future.” Rogue took his hand and let Sting pull him up. He couldn't bring himself to leave Sting. He just couldn't do it. Maybe his partner was right. Rogue never wanted to become that man. And Sting would never let him.


End file.
